


Eat Me Up Like Wild Fire

by rory_the_dragon



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Also first Lost Bird fic on AO3 Woo, Established Relationship, F/M, Public Sex, Reward fic for Caitlin, Shameless Smut, That Somehow Got Feelings In It, Wendy POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-15
Updated: 2014-01-15
Packaged: 2018-01-08 21:34:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1137623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rory_the_dragon/pseuds/rory_the_dragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wendy bites her lip and opens her legs, sees the corner of Felix's mouth quirk up. Felix uses his silence, he actions, and he’s going to undermine everything her father has to say without saying a word, with just his left hand.</p>
<p>And George Darling won’t even realise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eat Me Up Like Wild Fire

 

When the doorbell goes, Wendy’s out of her chair and running before either of her parents even look up, refusing to let Nana get the door, not this time. She slows, just a fraction, at her mother’s called admonishment, but is swinging the door open and pushing Felix back before the final chime sounds.

Felix doesn’t say anything as she crowds him out onto the porch, shutting the door to behind her, brow furrowed in confusion, but it soothes away when she winds her arms around his neck, presses a soft kiss to his mouth, a hello and an apology all at once.

He presses back to her, always does, hand gentle to her cheek and angling her mouth at a perfect tilt to lick inside, hungry as ever, and she breaks away, soothed. There’s something so settling about Felix, grounding even when he makes her feel like she’s flying, weightless.

“You’re wearing a tie,” She says, tugging on the offending piece of material. “You shouldn’t have worn a tie.”

Felix should never have to pretend to be something he’s not, especially not for her.

Felix shrugs, pressing a kiss to her hair. Wendy wraps her arms around his waist, settling her head on his chest. “Might as well make an effort, bird,” He says, lips moving whisper light against her. “And besides,” His voice drops an octave and she shivers. “Lots of fun things you can do with a tie.”

Wendy grins into his chest. “Well, maybe it’s not so bad.”

Felix makes an affirming noise in the back of his throat and Wendy has to swing back up onto her toes to kiss him again, close mouthed and soft because they’ve got about seven seconds before

“Wendy?”

She rocks back onto her heels and turns, still in Felix’s arms, to face her mother. Felix’s hands settle on her stomach and his chest is warm against her back. Her mother raises an eyebrow at her, unamused.

“Mother,” She smiles. “You know Felix by now? It’d be hard to forget him, I imagine, after you and father cornered him and Peter on the street.”

Oh yes. Wendy’s still pissed.

For one thing, it had been embarrassing. Arriving at Peter and Felix’s downtown apartment to Peter’s grinning face as he told her about the experience they’d just endured on Main Street, accosted by the Darlings demanding to know which of the two of them was dating their daughter.

Felix had pressed himself up against Wendy’s back, nosing at her neck as Peter laughed, gleeful at drawing a rise out of Wendy’s parents even if had been entirely accidental, and Wendy had felt the tense lines of him, frowned. That was the other thing. It had upset Felix.

“You don’t have to do it,” She’d said when it had transpired that her parents had bullied Felix into accepting a dinner invitation, carding her fingers through his hair, watching the tension drain away from him with her touch.

Mary and George Darling are masters at manipulation. It took Wendy eighteen years to break out of the mold they’d shoved her into, to realise just how deep they had their fingers dug into her.

She couldn’t expect Felix to sit through that, even if just for dinner.

But Felix had smiled, soft, the way he only ever smiles at her, at Peter, Henry, and said, “It’s fine.”

Wendy really doesn’t deserve him.

“Wendy, do stop acting like a child,” Her mother says, sighing. “Felix, please come in.”

Polite to a fault, Mary Darling. Sometimes Wendy looks at her mother and wonders if that was her future, if she’d been destined to turn into someone like Mary Darling, someone who put away dreams for someone else’s sake. Wonders if her mother will ever realise that Wendy was never going to let that happen to her, even before Felix.

Especially not after Felix.

Wendy takes Felix’s hand, grips it tight, and walks into the house, Felix at her back.

Dinner starts well.

Well, no, dinner starts _civil_.

Michael and John are fine, oblivious to the tension running through the room, and happily chattering away about their days in between bites of potato. Wendy loves her brothers dearly. They’re too locked into what their father wants them to be, perfect sons and heirs, but they’re so blissfully unaware of it that Wendy doesn’t want to ruin it for them. At least they’ll benefit, somewhere.

Her mother is quiet for the most part, gently interjecting to ask her boys questions, reminders for them to swallow before speaking. She makes enough of an effort with Felix to be called ‘an effort’, offering him more food and asking the genial questions she’d ask to the postman or the butcher.

She’s making _small talk_.

Wendy seethes.

George Darling watches Felix like there’s a wolf been set loose in his home, knuckle-white grip on his cutlery and eyes tracking every movement Felix makes. Wendy glares at him, but he doesn’t see it. Felix isn’t dangerous. Felix _can be_ dangerous. There’s a difference and George Darling has taken one look at town rumours, the scar on Felix’s cheek, and decided.

Wendy has never been so ashamed of her family.

Which is, of course, when the questions start.

“So, Felix,” Her father says Felix’s name like a curse. “What is it that you do?”

“Do?” Felix asks, swallowing his water and frowning.

“Your job?” Her father prompts. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “You’re clearly older than our Wendy, not in school. So, what do you do?”

“Father,” Wendy hisses, but Felix catches her hand under the table, squeezes it.

“I help out in Geppetto’s shop,” He says, thumb curving along the back of Wendy’s hand.

“Geppetto?” Wendy’s mother asks when it becomes clear that Felix has stopped speaking. “The carpenter?”

“Since his son left, he needed assistance. And I’m good with my hands.”

“And this earns you enough money?”

“ _Father!_ ” Her father ignores her, eyes on Felix, like a hawk.

Felix blinks, the thumb he still has soothing Wendy freezing, just for a second, before picking up the rhythm again. Always looking after her first. “I have other ways of earning money,” Felix says, voice still polite as if Wendy’s father hasn’t just made it clear exactly how little he thinks of him.

Wendy will never be able to make up this dinner to Felix. And the worst thing is that Felix won’t even let her. Felix is too good for this family.

“What about your family, Felix?” Her mother interjects when it looks like her father’s about to explode at the idea of Felix’s ‘other ways’, voice smooth. No matter how rude her husband is, Mary Darling will always be there to excuse him. Wendy is shaking. “Do we know them?”

“No, Mrs Darling,” Felix says, looking away from Wendy’s father. “I grew up in the orphanage.”

“Oh, with the nuns?” Her mother smiles, turning to rest a hand on her father’s as if he isn’t still staring at Felix with a gaze like knives. “George and I went to a wonderful fundraiser for the orphanage the other week, isn’t that right, George? The Mother Superior was positively _lovely_.”

Felix doesn’t respond, hand tightening on Wendy’s just for a second.

“Felix lives with Peter, now,” Wendy says, quickly, trying to move the conversation away from Felix’s past. He and Peter don’t talk much about the orphanage, except for when Peter’s in one of his moods, fire and rage, and Felix is the only one who can bring him down.

It’s the wrong thing to say.

Her father’s jaw tightens, muscle jumping, and he makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Peter. Peter Pan, you mean. The criminal.” It’s not a question.

“My friend,” Wendy corrects, low, now that her father’s actually looking at her. All of her life Wendy’s been tiptoeing around her father, giving him what he wants, at the very least the _image_ of a perfect daughter to show off. Not now, not with Peter and certainly not with Felix. She meets his gaze.

She almost wishes he’d say something more, knows he won’t. Darlings don’t cause scenes.

“She’s right,” Felix’s voice is quiet but it draws all eyes to him. Then he leans back in his seat, eyes on Wendy’s father, and if George Darling thought Felix was dangerous before, he _radiates_ it now. Peter will always be Felix's weak point and George Darling found it in half an hour. “You’re wrong about him,” Felix says, low, and Wendy is angry, Wendy is fuming, but so is Felix and Felix’s anger is _quiet_.

“Time for dessert, I think,” Wendy’s mother says in the silence that follows, quiet. Her father says nothing, nodding mutely. Wendy doesn’t think anyone’s ever told him he’s wrong before.

“Felix, we can go,” She says, cutting over her mother calling for Nana, eyes still on her father. “You don’t have to put up with this, we can leave right now.”

“Wendy!” Her mother admonishes but Wendy turns to Felix, waiting. He shakes his head. If Wendy walks out with Felix right now...well, her parents won’t _do_ anything, they do love her even if she sometimes thinks they love the idea of her more, and it'd be too much of a scandal to turn their underage daughter out onto the streets to undoubtedly live with her older and inappropriate boyfriend, but things won’t be the same. Wendy knows it.

But so does Felix.

Felix won’t let her do that for him.

“At least the boy has some sense of decorum,” Her father says, finding his voice, and something flickers in Felix’s eyes, sharp. Her father works with barbed words and backhanded compliments where Felix has always used his silence, his actions.

Nana serves them dessert and Wendy stares at her family in disbelief as all four of them continue as if _nothing_ has happened, wants to scream.

Then Felix’s hand settles warm on her thigh.

The touch is light, barely above the knee, but Wendy’s reaction is hardwired into her, electricity sparking from the point of contact. She looks sharp at Felix but he’s not looking at her, eyes on his bowl as his hand slides achingly slowly under her skirt.

She traps his hand between her thighs, pressing tight enough that he can't move his hand any further _up._

This time when she looks at him, he looks back, eyes hungry and a small smile playing about his lips even as he looks back to her father as if he'd been paying attention all along.

Wendy bites her lip and opens her legs, sees the corner of Felix's mouth quirk up. Felix uses his silence, he actions, and he’s going to undermine everything her father has to say without saying a word, with just his left hand.

And George Darling won’t even realise.

Mad boy, her beautiful utterly mad _brilliant_ boy.

Wendy sets her spoon down carefully, making sure it doesn't clink against her plate because Felix's fingers are looping steadily higher and higher up the flesh of her thighs, spiderwebbing until her nerve endings are lit up, and he's not going to do this fast.

He's going to take his time.

_Fuck_.

Wendy drops her head forward, hair shielding her face just for a second as she tries to get a lock on a poised expression, collected, even as Felix's long fingers brush, whisper light, against the dampening surface of her panties.

She bites back a moan, sips at her water to drown it out. Felix is smiling, secret, as a single finger _drags_ against the material, down, and she has to close her eyes.

Wendy has never been so grateful for the ridiculous high dining table, the tablecloth, hiding this from view.

“Gone,” She hears, and it’s part of a sentence, it has to be, but all she can hear is the emphasis on the word, the pointed tap Felix gives her that sends spasms through her muscles, legs locking and breath catching in her throat before it can become a whine, and his fingers return, a slow rub

His hand withdraws and Wendy’s hips shift, trying to follow.

“May I be excused?” She asks, and walks out on shaky legs to the downstairs bathroom.

Her underwear is already wet and she pulls them off over her shoes, bundling them into a tight ball in her hand as an idea comes to her. She returns, hand behind her back, and slides back into her seat.

Felix stiffens as her hand catches his under the table, knows what it is she’s handed him without even looking down, and he looks at her, hard, as if she’s something incredible, mouth curving. He tucks her panties into his pockets and places his hand back on her leg.

He starts again at the knee, only now his fingers dig in, bruising, and Wendy smiles, knows he’s as affected as she is. She doesn’t think she’ll ever be over that, how much she has a hold on him. He’s hers just as she’s his, gone from day one.

The bruises he leaves behind are almost negligible after that, if not for how Wendy likes to press her own fingers to them afterwards, imagine Felix there again, feel the burn of them when she walks.

Finally, _finally_ , he reaches the crease of her thighs, follows it down to the gap between her legs and...lets his hand rest in the space, frustratingly, _maddening_ , not. touching. her. Instead the warmth of his skin swells outwards, so much that it’s almost like he’s touching her with phantom fingers, ghosting over her, but nothing like the real thing and Wendy pushes her hips forward.

Felix grins, small, and answers whatever question it is that her father’s asking, and Wendy would pay attention, she would, it’d be better for all of them if she at least looked like she wasn’t resisting the urge to bite down on her napkin to muffle herself, but then she’s inhaling sharply as Felix obliges, lighting tracing circles across her, barely touching. _Teasing_.

This boy is going to be the death of her.

It’s chemical, instinctive, _primal_ , the way she reacts to Felix’s touch. Whether it’s his hand in hers or his head between her legs, her body reacts like they’ve been fooling around for hours. She’s so very, very wet sitting at her dining table with pudding sitting in front of her, untouched, and she sees the muscles in Felix’s neck tense as he realises. She can see his eyes grow dark, licking his lips and knows he’s resisting the urge to duck his head and taste, even as her mother asks another question that Wendy can’t make out through the buzzing in her veins, the chant of _FelixFelixFelix_ in head.

Wendy dips her little finger in the chocolate sauce of her pudding, catches Felix watch as she raises the digit to her mouth and pushes it in, slow. A challenge, because she can’t help herself.

She muffles a moan as Felix’s hand withdraws, _again_ , and forces herself to take a bite of her desert, if only so she can bite down on the spoon when Felix lifts his fingers to his mouth and sucks her off them, eyes bright.

When his hand returns, warm and wet from his mouth, he doesn’t tease anymore, and Wendy wants to drop her head back in relief when he unerringly finds her clit, rubs slow with the calloused pads of his fingers, and Wendy’s electric, hands gripping down on the edge of the table for a second of whitehotflash across her brain before she hides them under the table.

It’s torture, not being able to reach out and tug on Felix’s hair, bite down on his shoulder, groan his name like she’s dying, has to sit still, mute and trying to keep her breathing quiet as Felix presses hard enough for her to taste blood when she bites down on her cheek, then relents to lighter strokes.

The angle of his hand changes, just slightly, and Felix slides a single finger inside her, just barely, only just past the second knuckle, but Wendy’s mouth opens before she can stop herself. She breathes out a laugh, too quiet for anyone but Felix to hear. Ambidextrous. _Fuck_.

Felix’s thumb presses against her clit in tandem with the finger crooking inside of her, and Wendy has to raise her eyes to the ceiling as her back arches, slight, under his clever fingers. She watches the chandelier, certain it’s shuddering but that could just be her.

She’s close, she’s so close, and Felix knows it. The muscles in her thigh jump and she can’t breathe, she’s got to be so red because she can feel her hair sticking to her forehead, chest tightening, heat building and building and building inside of her until

Felix twists his finger, sharp, pad of his thumb circling hard, and Wendy comes with a broken noise in the back of her throat, head falling forward as she shakes, teeth clamping down on her bottom lip.

It’s like riding out an earthquake.

She’s just barely aware of the noise Felix makes, like he’s been gutted, the sound punched out of him as he watches her, and doesn’t even attempt to cover it up.

Wendy rests her head against the back of her chair and watches him with soft eyes, her parents deep in their conversation, John and Michael oblivious as always, and Felix meets her gaze, eyes so pleased and adoring that it catches her about the middle just how crazy fucked she is for this boy with his smirk and the happy crinkles around his eyes.

How much she loves this mad boy with a lock around her heart.

“Wendy,” She lifts lazy eyes to her mother, can feel a blush riding high on her cheeks and couldn’t give less of a fuck as Felix finally pulls his hand away. “You’ve barely touched your dessert.”

The first attempt she makes at speech is a high whine and she coughs quickly, ignores Felix’s chuckle, deep and fucked out even without coming himself, and shakes her head. “I’m done, mother. Couldn’t take another thing.”

Felix quirks an eyebrow and uses his napkin to wipe his hand, slowly. Wendy tries not to smile and fails.

She’s just glad that her skirt is dark enough that when they leave the table, there’s no sign of a stain. It’s almost a shame, really, she likes this skirt. She’ll have to add it to the list of other items of clothing that Felix has ruined in his time. Lingerie isn’t cheap, you know.

She leads Felix out of the house after dinner, met with no protests and the barest of goodbyes, but Wendy just doesn’t care anymore. Felix is everything her parents aren’t, gentle and kind, good to his bones despite everything. If her parents don’t want to know him, it’s their loss, not Felix’s, not Wendy’s.

Felix kisses her, pushes her against the porch, tongue and teeth and Wendy’s gasping into him, feels him humming happily against her, and she’s so in love with him that she can’t see straight.

She says it, breathes it into his mouth, and he smiles into the kiss before breaking it off, resting his forehead against hers. “My bird,” He says and Wendy rests her head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

“You’re better than all of them,” She whispers. “Best thing that ever happened to me.”

Felix rests his head on hers, doesn’t say anything, doesn’t have to, just holds her until the muffled voices of her parents grow louder and their few minutes of peace are up.

“Same time?”

She nods. “Same place.”

And with a final kiss, Felix walks away, looking back as he hops the gate rather than walking through it, then gone.

Wendy stays outside, arms pulled around herself, watching the space where he disappeared, until the door opens behind her.

“Wendy…” Her mother starts, but Wendy shakes her head, laughing coldly.

“No,” She says and walks past her mother.

“Young lady-”

“No,” She cuts off her father and heads for the stairs.

“Wendy Darling-”

“ _Don’t you dare_.” She whirls, three steps up and _done_. “Don’t you dare lecture me on rudeness, don’t even try. You ordered him to this dinner and the _only_ reason he turned up at all was because he didn’t want to let him down. I wanted him to stay as far away from you as possible, but he’s too good for that. He’s too good for you.”

Just for a second, her parents are speechless, and Wendy turns before they can find their voices. “I’m going to bed. Don’t even think about following me.”

And they won’t, she knows. They never do.

Her room is dark but for the moonlight leaking in through the window. She doesn’t bother turning on any lights, marches over and pushes the window up, wide. The cold air hits her, suddenly much cooler than the porch, with Felix.

She doesn’t shut the curtains as she slides her ruined skirt off, kicks off her shoes, and shimmies into a new pair of panties, light pink this time.

“Seems a bit pointless,” Comes from behind her and she presses back into Felix as he noses up behind her, approach silent as ever, settling against him.

“You can take these ones off with your teeth, I promise,” She says, closes her eyes as Felix growls and scrapes his teeth up her neck, but breaks away to slide a pair of jeans on and some pumps. “Peter?”

“He’ll be there. Making a stop first.”

Henry. Wendy smiles.

“One day the town council’s going to catch on to that, as pretty as all these old trees are, it’s just enabling the misspent youth of their children,” She says, grinning as she swings a small bag over her shoulder. “Let’s go. See what fun we can have with that tie.”

Felix grins.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Reward fic for Caitlin because essays are a bitch. 
> 
> We can also blame her for the title which comes from Neon Jungle's Braveheart which I listened to on repeat while writing this.


End file.
